


Talk back to your old bad dreams

by siderokardias



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Dark-ish, Erza would 10/10 win, Eye Trauma, Gen, If Fairy Tail held a contest for the shittiest backstory, Sort Of, erza-centric, it doesn't get worse than child slavery tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siderokardias/pseuds/siderokardias
Summary: They drop her in a ship’s belly, in a crawling sea of bodies that smell of smoke and fear. She won’t see the sky for another week and a half and then, it’ll come as a backdrop for the Tower’s spires.Or; ten times Erza Scarlet dies before she turns twenty.
Kudos: 12





	Talk back to your old bad dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This fic ghost-wrote itself.
> 
> CW just in case: eye trauma, child slavery, mild violence, basically Erza's deeply traumatising childhood experience. If there's anything I forgot to tag leave it in the comments down below so I can change it.

_I refuse to remember the dead._

_And the dead are bored with the whole thing._

_But you – you go ahead,_

_go on, go on back down_

_into the graveyard,_

_lie down where you think their faces are;_

_talk back to your old bad dreams._

— Anne Sexton, from All My Pretty Ones; A Curse Against Elegies.

_Shall I be able to bear it long? And is there any purpose in bearing it, shall I, then, be given time?_

— Franz Kafka, from his Diaries; 17, Oct. 1911.

  
  


**I .**

Irene puts the baby on the basket, checks again to see if the head is nestled properly if there are enough blankets for her tiny body, her too delicate, human body to stay warm. She is making the wrong decision, her dragon bones sing to her, _either kill it or make it into something useful,_ they tell her.

She turns and walks away, drawing the hood of her cloak up in a futile attempt to quiet the baby’s wails. She doesn’t look back, but her heart beats a little easier when she hears the nurse cooing to her little _belserionya_.

**II .**

There’s fire everywhere. She’s never seen so much of it at once. Everyone screams and runs around her, but the only thing Erza can think is that her hair doesn’t look like that. Her friends call her _firehead_ , but her hair is dark red like the sea when the sun sets over it, not orange and moving and _noisy_ . She doesn’t like the noise of fire – it’s laughing at her, at the destruction, at the bodies and the way Erza’s legs won’t move because there’s so much _noise_.

They find her like that, curled into a ball, hands pressed over her ears. She’s so still that they only realize she’s alive when they haul her body up to throw it into one of the impromptu pyres lit throughout the village; a gift to the Lord Zeref, to thank him for such a bountiful raid. Instead, they drop her in a ship’s belly, in a crawling sea of bodies that smell of smoke and fear. She won’t see the sky for another week and a half and then, it’ll come as a backdrop for the Tower’s spires.

**III.**

When the guards take her to the High Priests she doesn’t say a word. She hears Jellal screaming, saying it was his idea to make an escape plan. It wasn’t. It wasn’t hers either, but Sho came to the tower because his parents sold him. She won’t betray him too. They drag her up a twisting stair, so many levels of misery and sorrow, bones sticking out from the walls _they aren’t ornamental, are they?_ They tie her to a pole. A wooden pole, primitive and filled with splinters that stab at her back and rough rope, stained and biting at her wrists. It’s so primitive in this room, all elegance, and slick arches, that she can’t help but laugh. The Priests don’t like that, they call her a bird-brained little brat and many other things Uncle Rob has told them are bad words. They try to get her to confess, but, same as she won’t tell on Sho, she won’t lie. They don’t like that either.

At first, they use only magic – it hurts directly inside, so her body will remain functional, but they tire of it soon. Her eye pops and she can only think of the way the leeches downstairs burst in a blood clot when you step on them. Then the pain becomes too much and she can taste the liquid that had been inside of her socket a moment ago. Erza passes out.

**IV.**

There’s fire everywhere. It’s noisy and this time weapons are clashing all over. Erza presses her hands over her ears – maybe this time it’ll work. It doesn’t and there are three, five, ten guards pointing at her and Uncle Rob jumps in front of her _his joints ache in the mornings it takes him so much time to stand up._ Uncle Rob who told her stories and hugged her.

Uncle Rob -

Uncle Rob turns to dust before her eyes. Erza doesn’t curl into a ball this time, it didn’t work the last one.

This time Erza _screams_.

**V.**

Jellal’s hands are calloused, more leather than skin, from the time spent in the Tower. His arms are all ropes of muscle and sinew, his form slight but lethal. Jellal had always been the gentlest out of them all. That’s why Erza doesn’t see him coming until her feet are off the ground and she’s trying to pry his hand off her neck.

Then Jellal, her friend, her anchor, flings her into the sea. The waters close over her head, the salt burns in her lungs, and Erza prays to wake up in the tower, manacles still on, the nightmare gone and all of her family together.

**VI.**

The place Uncle Rob talked about doesn’t exist anymore. Sure, the building is there, but she doesn’t recognise anyone, and the little old man called Master Dreyar can’t possibly be brave, rash Makarov. This is all wrong, the illusion of finding a place where she belongs ripped from her, but she stays. A guild full of strangers is better than doing odd jobs and sleeping on wet grass or cobblestones.

She doesn’t let them approach her – she won’t enjoy life while her friends waste away in the middle of the ocean. She spends all of her first pay on armour. Nobody else will get close, nobody will twist her heart and tie it to theirs. She’d rather wither inside her metal shell.

**VII.**

The Magic Council members in Era tend to appear in the form of magical projections unless there’s an extreme situation. _It’d been nice if someone had warned me beforehand_ , she thinks, dislodging her sword from the column. The Jellal look-alike – Siegrain, from the screams of Master Makarov – doesn’t turn around to look at her, doesn’t even have the decency to blink like a regular projection after she slashed at his neck, screaming like a madwoman.

“May I ask how you know my twin?” Erza turns the blade on him. It’s useless, but it gives her a sense of security she desperately needs.

“Jellal never mentioned a brother.”

“I suppose he didn’t mention his authoritarian tendencies either, hm? I hear the Tower is coming along rather nicely.” The armour feels big all of a sudden, her arms itching where there’s no plate to protect them from the sunlight. Siegrain smiles, knowing and all too familiar.

**VIII.**

The Heaven’s Wheel armour was the first one she acquired. _Look, Grandpa_ _Rob_ _, I can fly!_ . The Adamantine armour came later; when she was already known as the Fairy Knight. A knight protects, a knight defends and a knight is not quintessential to the fight. A knight sacrifices herself, and immolation is bright green against the Jupiter cannon’s power. The armour breaks in shards – _it’s been a while since the last time_ _that happened_ , she thinks as she falls back. She hopes Lucy, whose father had tried to fetch her back like a runaway dog, is alright. Freedom shouldn’t come with strings attached to it.

**IX.**

Her arms and legs are embarrassingly pale in comparison to the other clients’ in the Casino. The last couple of days she’s worn her bikini without a problem – it is, after all, the uniform one puts on at the beach – but it’s still obvious she doesn’t tan very often. Perhaps she should have come dressed in her armour, but the most dangerous thing in sight is her and the way she’s utterly beating everyone at this card game. She’s surprised to have this much luck, but, for once, doesn’t take it as a warning of impending tragedy. She should have; perhaps Sho’s face wouldn’t have surprised her so much then.

When she makes sense of what she’s seeing her first feeling is _shame_ , a bone-deep embarrassment that she’s wearing this nice dress and she’s in this nice casino with her nice friends and her nice, shiny guild mark. Then there’s a hand at her neck and she wakes up in the belly of a ship.

**X.**

The second time she sinks into the lacrima it’s easier. This time she is doing it of her own will. The waters close over her head, the liquid magic pushes into her lungs. Erza prays Natsu wakes up at the beach. Then she lets herself float towards the light.

**Author's Note:**

> That's it for today, folks. Stay safe out there <333


End file.
